[ Saber would have to deny her own talent as a storyteller. She's only repeating the stories that came through Camelot's halls, told by knights much more riveting than she. Camelot was a great gathering place not only for heroes, but fantastic tales from every corner of Britain. As the person most knights sought to impress with their stories, it's only natural that she picked up the rhythm of a competent story through osmosis.

But before she can voice that thought, Magilou seems to be taken by a thought of her own. Unlike the wild sparks that often lead to outlandish turns of phrase or mischievous agendas, the light that glows in Magilou now seems sincere and radiant. Warmed, Saber's expression softens. ]

I think that would be an admirable path to pursue. And I know you would be wonderful at it. Stories are best spread when they are so compelling that they beg to be retold, and I have never known a more wily wielder of words than you.

[ Of course, Magilou's been spinning yarns and performing verbal acrobatics since day one, but Saber gets the sense that she wants to shift away from using language as a veil to distract and toward using it as a light to illuminate. Wonderful... Really, it's wonderful. Saber can't help her heart swelling with pride for her quietly earnest Master. ]

If I may say so, I think honesty suits you, Magilou.